Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Show Your Real: Rebecca

Rebecca is another real life friend of mine, but I knew of her blog before I knew her, so as a result, I call her Happy (from Happy and Co.) a lot more frequently than I call her Rebecca.. If you've ever read the comments here on Bowdenisms, then you've seen Happy. She is a faithful reader, which of course plays into my ego, but more than that she is a supportive and encouraging friend. She always has a kind word to share, a story to relate, and a witty way to look at things. I knew I wanted her to share her perspective for this series, but I also knew that it might take some convincing. First- I had to get her to take a break from reading one of the seven books she is always concurrently engrossed in (girl reads more than Oprah) and second- I had to convince her that she had something worthwhile to share. Happy is a humble soul, and doesn't always see how funny, creative and thoughtful she really is. But I knew if I could get her to agree to it, people would be blessed by what she had to say. Lucky for all of us, she took the risk and is opening up here today.

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Nine years
ago I was a single, working girl who wore strappy high heels, visited Starbucks
twice a day, had fancy salads for lunch from Bravo, and read volumes of books
in my evenings under the roof of my parents’ house. (Not everything can be glamorous and I wasn’t
one for the night life unless it involved a good book and a warm cup of tea whilst
snuggled under my covers.)

Then I met a
guy. And in the vein of being real, a
year later I had his baby. Another year
after that I had a second of his babies.
A year and a half later, I had a third and quit my job to take care of
these little rascals we kept producing.
(Was it the water? I’ll never
know…). Did I mention he had two
children from a previous marriage? I
promise it was not as Jerry Springer as it sounds and that there was a wedding
in there somewhere, even if the word shotgun comes to mind when it is
mentioned.

Thank you, Jesus, for your grace and
forgiveness and for using our messes to bring you glory.

To sum it
up, I was single with no kids and then had three babies in four years and
inherited two (totally awesome) step-daughters in the same amount of time. I went from having a full time job to staying
home full time. Today I am mom to Noah (age 7 ½), Caroline (age 6), and
Katherine (age 3 ½) as well as step-mom to Hannah (age 16) and Abby (age 15). I was somewhat hesitant to share our real when
Courtney asked as I personally find it almost terrifying at times.

I would
rather stick pins and needles in my eyes than wake up before ten a.m. so that
right there should speak volumes about our days. We are a slow to rise, late to bed
family. It is not unheard of to see/hear
our children up at ten p.m. playing rambunctiously and sawing logs well past
nine in the morning. Breakfast these
days is whatever everyone can serve themselves as I quit breakfast duty almost
as soon as I weaned them all off the breast.
I am more of a lunch and dinner mom.
Sometimes I wish we were more productive earlier in the day and it sure
would help during the school year when early mornings are quite literally the
bane of my existence. During those months we quite simply put, survive. (I am optimistic that this is our year to
shine in the a.m. hours, but only time will tell the sordid tale.)

In fact
while on the topic of our “routine” I hesitate to say we have one. Are we talking about the routine we have when
it is just me and the little kids? Me,
the little kids, and the big kids? Or
all seven of us? Our routine varies
depending on how many members of the family are taking part in the routine on
any given day. Our “routine” is going to
pick up Hannah and Abby for the weekend or for a few days or for a few hours
depending on the schedule and then taking them back to their mom, which is hard
on all of us because we miss them when they leave. Our “routine” is that Derek is usually at
work (someone has to bring home the bacon as these kids don’t pay for
themselves), but most Sundays find the house bursting with the activity of
seven people getting ready for church in one bathroom. Our getting ready for church routine itself
is a testament as to why people need Jesus.

As a
step-mom to two teenagers, things can get “real” real fast. Hannah, our oldest, is learning how to
drive. It is an exercise in faith to
hand over the keys to the car (and our lives) every time we go somewhere so she
can “practice.” I am constantly fretting
about an accident and telling her to “slow down.” (Thirty-five is an acceptable speed limit for
highway driving, is it not?)

After harping on her constantly about paying
attention to what she is doing and being cautious, I backed our van into a low
lying, but large piece of concrete today while parking. I am sure it won’t be mentioned next time we
get into the car to practice just as I am sure I won’t spend a hundred dollars
at Target on nothing next time I go in there with my little ones, one of who is
bound to be wearing a tutu over her swimsuit with her Disney Princess snow
boots. I am a mom who chooses my battles
carefully and I choose to go to Target, wardrobe issues be darned. I also choose to say, “Drive as I say, not as I do.”

Being a
step-parent means I literally share the joys and burdens of parenting with
three other parents. Wanna get
real? Try parenting from another
parent’s perspective all the time. I
respect and admire Hannah and Abby’s mom and refuse to be that step-mom who
breaks the rules and says, “It doesn’t
matter what your mom says, go ahead and get that tattoo! It looks awesome!” Luckily, she and I share the same
fundamental thoughts on parenting and have great communication. Every once in a while I get blindsided by a
moment of indecision, not being one hundred percent certain of which answer I
should give or if my opinion is truly needed or wanted and wonder if I should
just look the other way and raise my own kids.
I never end up going with that thought simply because I love Hannah and
Abby as if they were my own (until they come home all tatted up) and could
never imagine just not caring. But it is
real that sometimes I think I should let the “real” parents parent.

As for
parenting children I actually gave birth to via natural channels (when I worked
I signed up for Aflac and the Aflac representative was constantly referring to
my births as through or by “natural channels” as opposed to unnatural channels
I don’t know, but it always made me laugh and cringe in equal parts)…

A few weeks
ago the little ones and I were in the car on a particularly long jaunt and my
three year old declared she had to go to the bathroom. I stopped at a Burger King and the four of us
ventured into the place where every mother’s soul goes to die: the public restroom. I hate taking my kids into public restrooms
so much that I have stopped actually going into the stall with them. It is better if I don’t see them licking the
toilet seat, but know that when they brush their teeth (when, not if, we have
some code of conduct) they will brush away the germs. Mother of the year, yes, here I am. So I stood outside the stall waiting for
Katie to be done touching every surface and playing in the toilet water
going to the bathroom when she said, “Mommy,
let me out. I can’t open the door.”

I calmly
reminded her she needed to unlock it first, but she just responded with, “I can’t.”

While I was
trying to describe to her how to unlock the door, my seven year old decided to
take matters into his own hands and he crawled under the door and into the
stall. (Why didn’t I think of
that?) Before he could unlock the door,
Katie let herself out the same way he went in.
As their bodies slithered on the germ laden floor, I contemplated just
throwing their clothes away when we got home and bathing them in a bathtub full
of Purel. After a sketchy (at best) hand
washing session we were on the road again, but not without leaving a few
speckles of my brain matter behind.

While my
life has changed drastically in the last ten years I cannot let go of one
vice: reading. Bravo can keep their fancy salads and I
certainly do not miss wearing high heels every day, but without a good book to
end the day with (or if I am being real, to dive into throughout the day for
intervals of solitude and sanity), I would never survive. I need to read words, to live vicariously
through others and in other times almost as much as I need fresh brewed iced
tea or diet coke to fuel me through my day.
(Okay, and Jesus too. I need Him
the most, but I am always putting more worth on caffeine than the Holy Spirit
to get me through each song and dance.
Real.). So while some women feel
the need to create something in the forms of crafty projects, I must escape
into the pages of a novel for that sense of inner sanctuary. (Real:
I am terrible at reading things that would truly encourage me during
this time of life and instead opt for fictional tales that serve no purpose
beyond entertaining. Babywise? Nope, never read it. The New
Strong Willed Child? No thanks. I know I have strong willed children and
prefer to escape their strong willed-ness, not delve into the why’s and
wherefore’s of it.)

The single
girl in the strappy high heels sipping her venti black iced tea must be
laughing all the way to wherever it is she goes without her very own entourage
of kids who will inevitably need to use the bathroom when she gets there. She has no idea how good she has it, how
simple and carefree (and clean) her life is.
She also has no idea how great the messy, real stuff is she has coming
in the future.

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Show Your Real is a bi-weekly series of guest posts centered around the concept of authenticity. The goal is to encourage each other to expose the reality of our lives- good and bad- and to foster a sense of community that goes beyond the often suface-cy interactions of social media. We invite all of you to participate! Please comment, link, and hashtag to spread the showyourreal love. If you would like to contribute a guest post in this series, please email me!

2 comments
:

Oh it was the "real" Rebecca who was wearing strappy high heels leaving said Starbucks when she stepped in wet cement and "Real" Rebecca was very productive this morning while looking for school clothes that were hid late last night. The strappy high heeled Rebecca was cool but the new "Real" Rebecca is way better :)

This made me wonder if the girl, I mean woman, was named Real before somebody said to her parents "really? Real?" before they decided to replace the last 2 letter with Becca.

Anyway, I LOVE reading Rebecca's blog because she is very authentic, and she's even more so in person. Sometimes it feels like I've known her for a lifetime even though it's been a couple of years or so. Rebecca is so gracious and incredibly kind...so much so that I don't need a single filter when I'm talking (mostly texting these days) to her.

I feel incredibly blessed to be her friend and get my heart warmed by her sweet baby Katie!

I’m Courtney- a loud-talking, big-dreaming kind of a girl with a creative streak I can't turn off, a wholly imperfect love for Jesus, and an overwhelming passion for authenticity. I'm superpumped you're here.